But my hand still shook as I held my coffee cup. If he knew how easily he could seduce me...
Edward St. Cyr was a powerful man accustomed to satisfying his every desire. Sex-starved as he was, he might make short work of me right here, on this table. He’d lick me like salty bacon, pull me into his mouth like the sweet, plump imported strawberries. He’d satiate himself quickly with the offered treat—my body—and forget me an hour later. Just like what he was eating now....
Desperate for distraction, I snatched up the London newspaper he’d just finished. Edward looked up with a frown. “Wait—”
His warning was too late. As I opened the page, I saw a picture of Madison on a red carpet, smiling in a glamorous sequined gown as she attended the premiere of her latest blockbuster in Leicester Square. At her side, slightly behind her in a tuxedo, was Jason.
“Oh,” I breathed, and even to my own ears it sounded like a choked, bewildered wheeze, the sound someone makes when they’d just been punched.
Something grabbed my hand. Blinking hard, I saw it was Edward’s hand, holding mine tightly over the table. Was he trying to comfort me?
Abruptly, he dropped his hand. Lifting a sardonic eyebrow, he looked at the photo. “He looks like a trussed duck,” he observed.
“She’s dragging him behind her like a baby blanket.”
“You’re wrong,” I said automatically, then looked more carefully. Hmm. Now that Edward had pointed it out, Jason did look rather like an accessory, rather than a man, as Madison clutched his hand, dragging him behind her.
“And that white toothy smile of his,” Edward continued, rolling his eyes. “How much did he pay for those?”
“His smile is lovely!” I protested.
“The white hurts my eyes.” He briefly covered them. “I’ve never seen anything so fake.”
“Shut up!”
“Right. I forgot he’s your dream man.” Leaning back in the chair, Edward took a gulp of his black tea as he rolled his eyes. “See where love gets you.”
For about the hundredth time, I wondered about the woman who had broken his heart in Spain. The one who’d made him care so much that he’d actually tried to kidnap her. What had been so special about her? I looked back down at the photo of my stepsister and Jason, beaming at the camera.
See where love gets you...
I set down my fork. “Let’s get back to work.” I tilted my head and said challengingly, “Unless you need a longer break...”
Edward’s cup fell with a clatter against the saucer. His eyes were gleaming with the joy of the fight. “I’ve been ready for ten minutes. I was waiting for you.”
An hour later, back at the cottage, he was walking on the treadmill at the slow speed he hated.
“This is boring,” he grumbled.
“It’s fine,” I insisted.
“No.” He turned up the treadmill speed.
“Don’t!” I said sharply.
He turned it up even more.
“You’re going to kill yourself!” Then my eyes went wide as I drew back, watching him—this man who at the beginning of November had walked with a cane—now jogging forcefully on the treadmill. Edward had improved more rapidly than any client I’d ever seen.
“It’s almost superhuman,” I breathed. I jumped when I realized I’d said it out loud. Praise wasn’t part of our deal. I blushed. “I, um, mean...”
“No. I heard you perfectly.” Still jogging, Edward turned his head to give me a triumphant grin. “I amaze you with my strength and power. You’re in awe. You’re wishing right now you could give me a big fat kiss....”
“Am not!” I said indignantly, my cheeks on fire.
“I can see it in your face.” His grin widened. “Oh Edward,” he said mockingly in falsetto, “You’re incredible. You’re my own personal hero—”
His sentence ended when his ankle abruptly twisted beneath him. He slammed down hard, cracking his shoulder and head against the treadmill. In a second, I was on my knees beside him.
“Are you all right?” Luckily he’d been wearing the safety, which made the treadmill’s engine stop, or the skin of his cheek would have been ripped raw. “Careful. Don’t sit up so fast—”
Ignoring me, he ripped his arm away with a scowl. “I’m fine.”
“It was my fault—”
“It wasn’t,” he said shortly.
“I distracted you.”
Edward looked even more ticked off than ever. “Stop trying to take the blame. You didn’t do anything.”
“Your head’s bleeding. We might need to take you to a hospital—” But as I started to run my hands along his head, he yanked away.
“Stop bothering. I said I’m fine.” He put his hand to his scalp and his skin was covered in blood as he pulled it away.
Rushing across the cottage, I grabbed a clean white towel. Turning on the hot water in the sink, I got it wet and soapy then brought it back to him. Taking it without comment, he wiped his head. I put my hands over my mouth, almost ill with guilt.
“I shouldn’t have let you push yourself so hard. It’s my job to control you....”
“As if you could,” he gibed. He snorted, and one corner of his lips lifted as he looked at me. “Seriously. Think about it.”
Our eyes met. My shoulders relaxed slightly.
“That’s true. I can’t tell you anything, can I?”
He shook his head. “Not a thing.”
Seeing the blood dripping down his forehead, my smile fell. “But you can’t be strong all the time, Edward.” My voice faltered. “Even you have moments of weakness....”
His smile changed to a glare. “Weakness?”
I recoiled from the blast of cold anger. “From your injury.”
“Ah. Well. That’s what I’m paying you for, isn’t it?” He bared his teeth into a smile. “To wipe every trace of weakness from my body, to make me twice the man I was before she—”
He looked away, his jaw tight.
“Do you miss her?” I said softly.
“No,” he bit out. He pulled the towel from his head. “She was a good reminder of the lesson I learned as a child. Never depend on anyone.”
What had happened when he was a child? I wondered. “You depend on me.”
“To fix me? Yes. To keep my secrets? Yes.”
“That’s something, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” he said slowly, looking at me. “That’s something.” He abruptly turned away. Grabbing the handrail of the treadmill, he pulled himself to his feet. “The bleeding’s stopped. Back to work.”
“You’re going to run more?” I stared at him in shock.
“Why not, are you tired?” he said challengingly.
I held up my hands. “Don’t even! You’re going to hurt yourself!”
“I know what I can handle.” But as he stepped back on the treadmill, I saw the white of his knuckles as he gripped the